


The Buzzing Bugs

by lmeden



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-23
Updated: 2011-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 21:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmeden/pseuds/lmeden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>she would barely have noticed if he’d died.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Buzzing Bugs

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [At the Divergence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/163468) by [Leela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela). 



It is, of course, the worst possible moment to receive bad news. It always is. She’s in the sun-drenched yard playing with Harry, watching him run about and giggle like a little madman, hiding from her behind tufts of grass and then popping out again squealing, when the front door creaks open behind her. Sparing a last glance for Harry, she turns, twisting in her seat. James slumps to the ground beside her and sighs.

She looks back to her son, filled with sudden foreboding – a sinking fills the pit of her stomach. She waves a fly away from her face, and her lips are numb and dry as she asks, “What’s happened?”

“Another raid,” James’ voice is low and tight. She understands his frustration perfectly. They are locked away here, caged. They can’t stop these raids – can’t even fight to help their friends. All because of a single prophecy. Harry shrieks and runs across the lawn, arms spread. She smiles at him, softly.

“Were there any casualties?”

“No.”

She sighs in relief.

“Not on our side, at least.”

She looks at him, confused. James never reports on the Death Eater casualties. No one reports on those, not even the papers. Only the Ministry knows which Death Eaters have been killed or captured until there is a trial. And, she suspects, few care. She wonders why James is taking the time to tell her, and why he seems so subdued. Normally he would be pleased, at least.

“Who were the casualties, then?” She makes an effort to remain calm and collected. Nervousness curdles within.

James sits, silent for a long moment, and she waves weakly to Harry. He stumbles over and falls to his knees next to her, leans on her legs. She pets his soft, downy hair.

“It’s Snape. Severus Snape.”

She freezes at her husband’s words. “What?” She turns. She can’t see James’ eyes behind his glasses. He looks down.

“I know that we had our problems, and Sn- well, Snape never liked us and we never liked him, but I thought you should know.” His fingers curl, ripping at the grass.

Her mouth is open to scream, or shout, or hit him when James finally confirms it. “He’d dead.”

She is leaning over, curled around herself and face in the grass before she realizes it.

“I’ll just take Harry. We’ll, uh, be inside.”

 _No, not my son_ , she whispers. But he isn’t what she needs right now. She wants Severus standing in the front yard, black robes falling to the ground and rude words spilling from his mouth. She inhales the fresh musk of nature and hates it; a single tear trails down her cheek. She takes in a deep, shuddering breath and sits up again.

Her best friend is dead. She’d loved him as best as she could; adored him even though they had been drifting apart for years and she’d seen his own feelings of friendship grow into something more. She’d so hoped that he would move on, find someone else to love him as she didn’t, she just _didn’t_. She can’t change that. She loves (loved) Severus, but she is in love with James.

She sighs and pushes her dark auburn hair behind her shoulder. It clings to the sweat on the back of her neck. Her heart feels heavy and wrung out, and she lets herself fall back onto the ground. The sun pours down on her and she shades her eyes with a hand. She wants her best friend.

She enjoys James’ friends, but only so much. They are his friends, after all, not hers. And though she and Severus had been estranged for several years, she’d always imagined they might be friends again. That Severus would realize the utter stupidity of his allegiance to Voldemort and come back to her. That he would fall in love with someone else and that they could sit in the kitchen on days like this and she would drink cold milk and he hot tea (so contrary), and they could laugh together over the idiocy of the people that they’d met and Harry’s and James’ antics and _smile_.

But he is dead. And all those dreams are shattered. She wonders how much longer it will be until they are all dead, every single one of them. Will it be Voldemort, or an accident, or old age? How will she die? The sun pricks at her skin, burning her.

She leaves her hand over her eyes and closes them. She just wants to sleep, sleep and forget. But it’s too bright and hot in the yard, and the buzzing of flying insects suddenly seems deafening. She lets it overwhelm her, and only moves once – to wipe the wetness off her hand and onto the breast of her blouse.


End file.
